


At Night I Think About You

by notheretonowhere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Castiel, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notheretonowhere/pseuds/notheretonowhere
Summary: Dean and Cas are more than just college roommates; they’re best friends. But when Dean accidentally sees more of Cas than he ever bargained for something about their relationship changes. As desire leads Dean down a road, he never envisaged taking he discovers that life has a funny way of putting you in the right place at that right time.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was halfway to class when he realised that he’d left his physics paper behind. He stopped on the sidewalk debating whether it was worth turning around and running back to get it. He was already late and he still had another two blocks to go before he reached the campus. Going back would make him super late, and his professor didn't like him as it was. He sighed. It was better to hand in the work and get docked for attendance than to miss a deadline. He’d learnt that in his first year and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. He hoisted his bag back up his shoulder and started marching home.

The apartment he shared with his roommate was in a quieter part of town away from the rest of the students and their wild ragers. He’d been the life and soul of the party scene when he was an undergrad, but now he was in grad school he couldn’t deal with the distractions. He was getting old. He needed his peace and quiet, and he was eternally grateful that his roommate, Castiel, felt the same way. It was nice to live with someone who liked the same things as him - peace and quiet, crappy action movies, pineapple on pizza, Dr Sexy marathons - though he would never tell anyone about the last two as long as he lived. He and Cas worked well together. He wasn’t just Dean’s roommate he was his best friend.

-

Their place was quiet as he opened the door. He dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes. Cas should have been up and about by now, but it was his day off so maybe he was still asleep. Dean hurried to his room walking past the open-plan kitchen and living room without a backwards glance. His paper was sitting where he’d left it the night before, in the middle of his desk with a big yellow post-it note on it that read ‘don’t forget’. He snatched up the neon sign and threw it in the wastebasket. Fat lot of good it had done him. He left his room careful not to slam the door even though he was dying too so as not to wake Cas.

But Cas was awake.

On his way back to the door Dean heard something that made his feet root to the spot. A moan. A low, soft, breathless moan, coming from the living room. Dean’s heart jumped into his throat, and he instantly felt every inch of his skin tingle with an emotion he didn’t want to examine. Another moan, louder than the last forced the air from his lungs. His body moved without an order from his mind. He took a couple of cautious steps towards the sound. He flattened himself against the wall of the living room and peered around the corner.

In the middle of the room, spread out stark naked on the couch was Cas. He had one hand around his dick, jerking quickly and the other…the other was lower down, circling his…Dean’s brain malfunctioned. He ducked back behind the wall, breathing hard, his mind trying to wrap itself around what it had just witnessed. Something hot slide down his body and coiled low in his gut.

Without thinking he took another look around the corner. Dean’s face flushed. Now the initial shock had worn off Dean was able to absorb more of what lay before him. From where Dean was standing he could see Cas’ whole body laid out. Cas had his eyes closed, and his chest was rising and falling quickly, matching the beguiling rhythm of his thrusting hips. He had his feet propped up on the coffee table. Legs open wide so that he could reach down between them and fuck himself on his fingers as he fisted his cock.

Dean watched his hands move. He stared transfixed as Cas’ fingers plunged in and out of his hole with practised ease. His eyes traced up his body again, taking in Cas’ cock as it slipped through the circle of his fist, the fine trail of hair that curled across his broad chest and the way he bit his lips over and over again trying to stifle the noises he was making.

His paper crumpled forgotten in his hand. Dean was hot all over his skin steaming underneath his coat. His dick was hard in his jeans, forced against the zip creating a pressure that sent sparks down his legs. He had lost the ability to breathe and think and reason, and the longer he stood there, the more he felt that he’d never be able to move again.

Almost irrationally he longed to reach down and stroke himself in a matching rhythm. The sight of Cas strung out on pleasure in their shared space awoke in Dean something he had never fully considered. Temptation tore through him, he wanted, and he could have it if he only let himself. His hand shook at his side desperate to touch, all he had to do was reach out…

It struck him like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the fog of his desire. He had to get out of there. He was intruding on Cas’ privacy in the worst possible way. He was gross and perverted, and he shouldn't be getting off on spying on his best friend jerking it. He backed away from the living room and made his way as quietly as possible to the door. As he picked up his bag and turned to leave he heard another loud moan from the living room, it took all his strength to open the door and walk out.

-

Dean was very late for his class. His professor chewed him out in front of everyone and then stared daggers at him for the rest of the two-hour session, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t focus on anything except the endless replay of the scene that he’d stumbled across in the living room. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see behind his lids was Cas’ tanned, muscular body, his dick pushing through his tight fist, his fingers moving in and out. It was on a loop, and it was taking all his willpower not to pop a boner in the packed classroom.

-

When Dean eventually got home later that day Cas wasn't there. Dean sent a grateful prayer up to anyone who was listening. He couldn't face Cas. Not with the images from that morning still going around and around in his head. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to look his friend in the eye ever again. He went to bed hoping that in a couple of days he’d have forgotten about the whole thing and life could get back to normal. 


	2. Chapter 2

As the days past, Dean’s run in with Cas did not fade from his mind. If anything the entire encounter seemed to intensify with every passing second he was in Cas’ company. Dean tried with ever fibre of his being to suppress what he’d seen, to stop it carving hot lines across his body when his mind went back to it for the hundredth time but Cas made it almost impossible. Dean would feel like he was succeeding in stamping down his body's traitorous urges until he found himself in his roommate's presence.

Conversations that had once been innocent now dripped with sexual tension. At least they did to Dean. Cas asked for his opinion on a new pair of trousers he’d bought for work, modelling the offending smart slacks, and Dean found himself unable to formulate a coherent reply. Cas stretched in front of him waiting for his input, and Dean felt his dick filling in his jeans. He practically tore from the kitchen to get away from Cas and his burgeoning - he wasn't going to use the word 'attraction' - to him.

When they ordered take out together, one week after 'couchgate', and ate it in front of the TV Dean could barely taste his pizza or listen to a word Cas was saying about the nature documentary he wanted to watch. All he could think about was the fact that Cas had sat right there, where he was sitting, and gotten himself off. His cheeks reddened at the thought. Cas' feet had been propped up on the coffee table now littered with pizza boxes and empty coke cans. His body, his naked body, had splayed out where Dean's jean-clad ass now rested. God! Had he even put down a towel? Dean found himself torn between a self-destructive urge to bury his face in the cushions and a more hygienic wish to have the whole couch laundered. He couldn't deal with it anymore. Sitting next to Cas, listening to him talk, his body dialling from arousal to loathing and back again. It was intensely distracting. Eventually, Dean had to make his excuses and go to bed.

He was unsure if he'd imagined the way Cas’ face fell when he'd said he was too tired to stay up. Perhaps it was a trick of the light? But the look, real or not, followed him to his room and plagued his already Cas-filled dreams.

-

It was the lack of sleep that got Dean in the end. He just couldn’t get over what he had witnessed. He couldn’t contain it and he sure as hell couldn’t forget it. That morning kept revolving in his head as he slept. His mind was determined not to move past it, and so Dean decided after another night of tossing and turning and waking up half hard to dreamed moans that if he couldn’t beat his thoughts, he’d have to roll with them.

He threw back the covers, pushing them to the end of the bed and palmed his morning wood through his boxers. He let his mind wander back to the other day, and it did so with relish. He could break down the moment into a play-by-play he’d thought about it so many times. The bit-back moan that gave him pause, his first glimpse of Cas spread out on the couch bathed in the early morning light, the way he fucked himself with his eyes shut tight. Dean let himself fully enjoy the memory for the first time.

It did not take long for the thin fabric between his hand and his cock to become damp and tacky. He was so desperate after days of trying to ignore his instincts. The idea of rushing it was tempting, he could almost taste completion, but he wanted to enjoy this, take it slow, seeing as he would not let himself do it again. He wouldn’t because whilst it was not overtly wrong to think of his friend in this way Dean felt dishonest taking pleasure in something he was never meant to witness. His misgivings, however, were not strong enough, with his dick hard and straining beneath his palm, to stop him.

He slid his boxers down his legs and kicked them off. Finally naked he lay back. Dean ran his hands over his body, up each thigh in turn and along both arms, savouring every second. He circled his nipples catching them with his blunt nails the sensation producing a satisfied moan. He let himself think of Cas unabashed, his fingers, his cock, his hole. The very idea of him sent his hips arcing into the air. He had to touch himself. He had to. He could prolong it no more. He let his right-hand trail over his body till it met the wet head of his cock sitting full and heavy on his stomach. He ran his fingers down his length lightly, teasing himself, before forming a circle with his hand and pumping his swollen, dripping erection. He drove his fist up and down at a punishing pace pleasure skating across his skin, Cas’ name trapped behind his lips.

Dean tried to make it last, he really did, but the image of Cas in his head had him ready to cascade over the edge embarrassingly fast. He tightened his grip as his other hand ran tentatively over his balls and down along the sensitive skin towards his ass. Dean stalled on the precipice of a step he had often wanted to take but never had. He would be bolder next time he told himself, right now he just needed to come. His hand swept back up to play with his balls, and he stayed there as the building sensations pushed his hips off the mattress again and again. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and it was taking all his strength not to shout out. Dean felt his body slipping undone, aching hunger like he’d never felt dancing down his nerves, making sweat pool on his forehead and his lungs burn. With Cas in his mind's eye and another tight twist of his hand, Dean was coming hard and fast into the air. It rained down, painting his stomach in hot stripes, a guttural moan escaping in his struggle to catch his breath. Dean continued to twitch and shudder with abating arousal for a long time, lost in a sea of contentment. As his heartbeat returned to normal, he was sure that he’d finally gotten Cas out of his system.

-

Unfortunately for Dean, thinking about your friend jerking off - after watching them jerk off - was one thing but actually acting on those thoughts was quite another. By allowing himself to think of Cas as he’d stroked himself to the most mind-blowing orgasm pretty much ever, he’d managed to break some sort of barrier in his mind, and now his body couldn’t seem to get excited without a constant supply of Cas-centric thoughts. Dean was more than happy to oblige his raging instincts. His unease about spying on his friend conveniently forgotten every time he replayed his favourite scene from the Spank Bank Hall Of Fame. He always kept the scene the same, remembering each moment exactly as it had happened, but slowly, without Dean noticing, other things about Cas started to slip into his memory.

He’d add little bits from their lives together, glimpses he had taken of his friend and stored away in secret. Cas, hot and breathless in his grey t-shirt soaked with sweat from the gym. The way his blue eyes sparkled as he laughed at one of Dean’s crap jokes. How their fingers would often brush as Cas handed him the groceries to put away. Dean seemed to have a never-ending stream of Cas-related anecdotes he could use to embellish his fantasies. These little snapshots of Cas built on his memory, adding layers and new storylines every time he went back to it, changing it with every retelling.

Sometimes he’d join Cas on the couch, bending down between his outstretched legs and taking him in his mouth, sucking his cock until he spilt and Dean could swallow every last drop. Dean would shove his fingers in his mouth as if they were Cas’ leaking cock, filling him, choking him, as he came hard against the shower tiles.

Other times, Cas would open his eyes and catch him spying. Unconcerned with the interruption, he’d level a look at Dean so wanton and full of lust that Dean’s heart would stop in his chest and his hips would falter as he humped into his mattress. In his mind, Cas would then turn around and bend his lithe body over the back of the couch, presenting himself to Dean who was unable to turn down the invitation to fuck his friend until he was an exhausted mess.

Dean went on and on in this vein. Scenario after scenario playing out in his mind as he touched himself with rough hands and slow caresses. He tried to keep it just about the sex, but occasionally his mind would run away with him. He’d think about them going for dinner and then to see a movie before making out in an alley by the cinema, grinding against each other till they came in their trousers. He liked those fantasies most of all although he would never let himself dwell on them. Because no matter how much Dean embellished and twisted the memory, making it his own, Dean’s conscious mind refused to acknowledge anything when it was all over and his blood pressure had returned to normal. He would never call it what it was. He would never admit, in the cold, hard light of day, that he had an almighty crush on his best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

It was late, or maybe it was early, that liminal time between night and day when the world is still, and anything seems possible. Dean woke up, deeply regretting all the water he’d chugged when he got back from his run and stared at the ceiling, mapping the cracks in it as his body begged him to get up. He struggled out of bed reluctant to leave his nest of blankets. Dean ambled to the bathroom at the end of the corridor half asleep. He dozed off as he stood over the toilet and it took him much longer than usually to finish up and wash his hands because he was so damn tired. He ran his hand along the wall to find his way back down the hall in the semi-dark. As he passed Cas’ room, he noted that the light under his door was out, not that he was looking or thinking wistfully of the room’s occupant tucked up inside. He paused, his fingers running over the smooth wood of the door. Cas was giving him pause more and more these days, but he could not figure out what to do about it. He could not bring himself to act.

As he stood there in the dark some part of his sleep-addled mind swore it could hear the distinct creaking of bedsprings. He had to be imagining things. He’d been so caught up on Cas recently that he was starting to project aural hallucinations or something. No. There, again, the clear groan of an old mattress bending under repeated motion. Dean’s eyes snapped open. Did Cas have someone in there? With him? Fucking him? His heart sank into his feet. He went stone cold, and he was pretty sure that the air had turned to glass cause it hurt to breathe. Yet he didn’t move. He couldn’t seem to find the energy to take his body away from whatever was happening behind the door.

A stuttered moan. A sharp intake of breath. The scrabbling sound of a hand grabbing at sheets. Dean heard it all, but he still couldn't turn away and go back to his room. Cas was in there with someone else. He had missed his shot. The back of his eyes burned.

“Dean…”

He was caught between one heartbeat and the next. Had Cas just whispered his name? The sound of the bedsprings intensified. He heard his name again, louder this time. He could not deny that it was his name and what were the odds that another guy called Dean was fucking Cas? So that left only one option. Cas was thinking about him and…holy shit. Dean had to see. He dropped to his knees as quietly as possible and pressed his eye to the keyhole.

The night was sweltering. Cas’ window was open to let in the cool air. It rippled through his gauzy curtains casting moving shadows on the walls. The streetlight was still on, bathing the room in an orange glow that made Cas’ sweat-slicked skin shine. Dean could not see much through the keyhole, but he could see Cas sitting up on his bed with his back to him. No, he wasn’t sitting up he was kneeling with his legs spread underneath him, rocking back and forth. A steady rhythm, lifting up onto his knees and back down on to something that Dean could not see. The shadows pooled on the drawn back sheets obscuring his view. The only other thing he could see were the soles of Cas’ feet, pale in the artificial light.

Dean pulled back from the door. He took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. His blood was pounding in his veins. He was achingly hard in his boxers but frozen on the precipice of indecision. Should he press his eye back to the keyhole to watch his friend fuck himself with Dean’s name on his lips? Or was this act of patently masochistic voyeurism another breach of the code that existed between them? Dean could go back to bed. He could. He willed himself to believe this as Cas moaned even loader on the other side of the door.

In truth, Dean reasoned, he was a simple man of simple pleasures. He was not a bad guy. He wasn’t taking advantage of Cas. Cas was calling his name for fuck's sake! Surely he would not hate Dean for responding to the call he told himself as he looked through the keyhole once more.

The covers had been kicked off the bed entirely. Cas had moved position. He was leaning forward on his elbows in the middle of the bare mattress his bare ass presented to Dean who was finally, finally able to see what he was doing. Dean watched as slowly Cas reached back, spreading his cheeks with one hand and manoeuvring himself down onto the head of a thick dildo.

Dean hissed out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He watched as Cas fucked back onto the dildo, taking it all the way to the hilt and then raising back up again, his hole stretching around the pale plastic. He couldn’t bare it any longer. He reached inside his boxers and pulled out his dripping cock, wiggling the fabric down until it sat stretched across his thighs. On the other side of the door, Cas had picked up the pace. Dean matched the movement of his hand to the rise and fall of Cas’ ass. Mesmerised he stroked without thought, sweeping down and up as his hips rolled and baulked.

In the low light of his room, Cas took himself in hand too. From behind Dean could not see exactly what was happening, not like he had the day Cas had been on the couch, but he imagined it. Dean imagined he was in the room with Cas, that Cas was riding his dick and fisting his own cock, moaning his name over and over again.

Cas was getting loud. If Dean had been asleep next door, he would probably have been woken up by the sounds. The thought of that only increased Dean’s frantic movements. He was going to come, but he didn’t want to miss a moment of Cas’ climax.

Cas slammed himself down once, twice, three times before he stayed down, ass clenched tight around the dildo. A great shudder curved his back, and his arm slowed and stroked out his release. Dean watched all of this with a sense of euphoric detachment. He could feel his own orgasm building at the base of his spine. What pushed him over was the thought that Cas might get up and find him there kneeling with his dick in hand and eye to the keyhole. He came hard painting Cas’s door in white stripes of hot come. He had to put his fist in his mouth to stop himself from calling out, hoping beyond hope that Cas’ continued panting would prevent him from hearing him.

The two men stayed where they were on their respective sides of the door for a long time. If Cas had any idea that Dean had witnessed what he had just done, he showed no sign of it. Dean came back to himself slowly. It took a while to figure out what he was doing kneeling on the floor with his face pressed to a wooden door. Once he did he acted quickly, he stood, shaky and awkward, his legs having gone to sleep beneath him. He whipped off his boxer shorts and hastily wiped up his come. Then he crept to his room and shut the door behind him. He fell back against it, staring at his ceiling again the last vestiges of pleasure still lingering in his blood.

Some time later he heard Cas’ door open and the sound of him walking to the bathroom on unsteady feet. Dean got into bed tired and satiated, thoughts of Cas more pronounced than ever.

He would think about what he’d done tomorrow.

-

As it turns out Dean didn’t think about it the next day, or the one after that or the one after that. He put his nighttime adventure to the back of his mind, especially when he was around Cas. It was literally the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He had never been more conscious of his feelings for Cas. Every time they were in the same room together the pressure was intense like a thunderstorm brewed imminent and threatening between them. All he could hear was the broken, fucked out way that Cas had said his name. He longed to hear it again. He longed to be the cause of such a beautiful sound.

When he was alone, he tried to reason with himself, to control himself. Cas had always been an attractive guy, but Dean had spent very little time actually thinking about him, his body, the shape of his freaking jaw until this whole thing started. At night as he lay in bed it was all he could think about. If he wasn’t jerking off to some aspect of Cas’ physique or personality, he was driving himself mad imagining them…together.

He was such a coward. He could walk up to Cas at any point and ask him out. They spent so much time with each other anyway not much would change if he decided to follow his heart. But Dean couldn’t do it. The words would be on the tip of his tongue as he and Cas folded laundry or made lunch, but they’d always get stuck. He’d choke. He was even reasonably sure that Cas liked him back, the guy had said his name - a lot - the other night. It was clear he felt something too. Maybe. Possibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for reading my fic! I hope you enjoyed it. There are a couple more chapters coming up and let me tell you they get wild so stay tuned. It's going to take me a bit longer to get them published so please subscribe for updates. Also, love in the comments and kudos are much appreciated! Thank you, everyone who has already left a comment honestly, they are giving me life! This is my first ever fic and my first ever piece of published writing, so your support and input are really helpful and encouraging. Thanks once again! Oh! And if you want to follow me on Tumblr it's @notheretonowhere :)


	4. Chapter 4

It had been eating at Dean since that night. Simmering underneath his new feelings for Cas, his inability to talk to him about them and the constant throb of arousal he felt when he so much as thought about him. Behind all of that in Dean’s brain was something he kept coming back to, he wanted to experience things with Cas he had never tried before. Seeing Cas fucking himself on his bed had made Dean curious. He wanted to be the source of that pleasure for Cas, and he was not opposed to the idea of Cas taking him the same way. He’d never ventured back between his legs, but now as he stroked himself to thoughts of Cas his fingers grew bold, sweeping back and circling his puckered hole. He wanted, but he was afraid and wasn't that the story of his life at the moment. Want and fear coursed through his every waking moment and tortured him as he slept.

Cas had pushed Dean further than anyone. So it was no surprise that it was Cas who once again led Dean further down this road without even knowing it. Dean had never even tried it with the girls he’d been with, none of them had suggested it, and he’d never pursued it. But with the memory of Cas still fresh in his mind Dean could not pretend that he was not intrigued. Late at night when his inhibitions were lowest, he did some research. Trawling through sites that explained what to do and how to prepare. He couldn’t bring himself to watch, though. Not yet. Porn was a big step. He’d take it eventually when he got inquisitive enough.

Curiosity got the better of Dean, not two days later. Booting up his laptop he eschewed his usual porn preferences for something new, opting instead to watch a guy jerk off. He didn’t think too hard about it, about what it meant to him and his sexuality. He quickly shuttered those thoughts and that word away. He settled back against his pillows to watch the guy on screen get to work. It was exciting to watch someone else bring themselves closer and closer to the edge. It was not as illicit as when he had caught Cas, but it was still good. He felt his blood drain down his body and pool between his legs as the man on screen groaned and writhed. Dean shucked off his sweatpants and palmed himself. His boxers came off too. The camera zeroed in on the man’s hands, watching them work on his dick and cup his balls. Dean mimicked his movements, taking his direction from the video until the man abruptly stopped. He was reaching for something out of frame, and Dean stopped too. The man came back with a little bottle of blue lube, and Dean knew where this was going. He grabbed his own bottle from the nightstand and coated his fingers carefully.

On his side he slipped his hand back between his cheeks, running the cool liquid over furled skin. The man in the video had started fingering himself in earnest, but Dean could not bring himself to match his pace. He closed the lid of his laptop, determined to find his way on his own. He teased himself for a long time, moving his hand back and forth, building to the inevitable conclusion slowly. He pushed his finger in, index, up to the first knuckle. Oh. How a dick could fit in this tight heat Dean could not imagine. It was different, yet somehow glorious, the sensation of skin pulling against skin. He moved ever so slightly faster and pushed in deeper. As Dean increased his pace, he managed to use his other hand to open his laptop again before bringing it back to settle around his dick. He fell back in rhythm with the onscreen man, stopping only once to add a second finger to the first.

He was panting now and moaning. Moving almost blindly, chasing sensation. Pleasure thrummed through his body setting his nerves alight. He flipped over onto his stomach, taking his hand from his dick to pull at his ass cheeks in the process. With the laptop in front of him and images of Cas in his mind, Dean humped down into his mattress catching his sensitive cock on the covers, dragging the head through them, before shifting back onto his pumping fingers. Somehow during all of this, he managed to twist his fingers just right and find the bundle of nerves he knew, on some level, he had been searching for. Liquid fire coursed through him. God, he was going to die, this was it. Screwing his eyes shut he impaled himself again and again. His orgasm built like a tidal wave rushing in to shore. He thrust back onto his fingers a final time and stayed there rubbing in sharp circles as he came hard against the sheets. The sheer force of it whited out his vision. Dean closed his eyes and lay still, shudders of pleasure making his muscles twitch and jump.

Eventually, Dean came round and carefully extricated himself from the tangle of blankets and sheets now soaked with this release. He rolled over, careful to avoid puddles, and lay back still breathing hard. That was something else. He’d unlocked something within himself. The qualms he had had suddenly seemed inconsequently and a little silly. There was nothing wrong with him, and there was nothing wrong with…butt stuff, especially if it felt this good. He was still stuck on the Cas thing, but he'd cleared one hurdle at least. But all of this could wait. He wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as possible. Dean closed his eyes, satiated and happy.

- 

It was Dean’s free afternoon, and it was his turn to clean the apartment. He’d already wiped down the kitchen and sorted the ironing. Now he swung the vacuum cleaner around the living room dancing along to old rock songs on the radio. After this, he'd move to the kitchen then the hall, before tugging the vacuum to the bathroom and finally his room. He was leaving Cas’ room till last like he always did and not because the thought of going into his friend’s room did funny things to his heartbeat.

Dean stood on the threshold of Cas’ room. He hadn’t been in there since the other night, but even before that, it was never somewhere he ever hung out. It was always Cas’ space, and while Dean liked to invite Cas to sit on his bed as they talked or let him steal his t-shirts if his were dirty, Cas had never instigated the same open door policy. But he had a job to do. This was normal he was just cleaning, he had vacuumed in there before everything had happened no problem. He could not not do it now. Dean crossed over into the strangely familiar and yet whole new territory, dragging the vacuum behind him. He managed to go around the entire room, lifting things and moving things out of the way, even reaching to get under the bed without any mishaps. He was unplugging the vacuum from behind the nightstand, ready to roll up the cord and put it away when it struck him. Cas must keep it in there. The dildo. It must be in the drawer he was now perilously close to, just within reach.

Damn his curious nature. He opened the bedside drawer. It was remarkably similar to his own, a box of tissues, condoms, lube and wipes but there was one striking difference. The dildo. Fuck. It was real. In some strange way, Dean had thought that maybe what he’d seen had been a dream, but now the truth was sitting in the drawer before him.

What was with him and getting weird and perverted when it came to Cas? He slammed his hand down on the nightstand and left the room. He had to stop this. He couldn't’ keep thinking about Cas like this, he was using him, and he had no idea. It wasn’t fair. Cas might not like him at all, and here he was getting off to him every ten minutes, going through his private stuff and being a general creepy asshole.

Disgust crawled across his skin. Why was he like this? Cas didn’t deserve a friend who was willing to do this to him. Dean abandoned the vacuum in the hall. He needed a cold shower or a bath in Purell or something. He settled on the shower.

Dean turned the hot water all the way up until he could feel it searing away the shame that lingered, persistent, over him. He felt like he was thinking clearly for the first time in days. He laid out his thoughts and came to the conclusion that he owed Cas the truth or at least an approximation of it. He might not be able to explain it all, but he should tell him how he felt. Having settled on a plan, Dean relaxed and let the water wash away his worries.

- 

The shower had helped. Dean felt calmer than he had in weeks. He could even see himself finishing the cleaning when he’d gotten dressed again. He hurried back to his room to dig out some clothes, dodging the vacuum still in the hall. As he passed by Cas’ room, his eyes naturally looked inside. The drawer was still open. Dean’s heart stopped. There’d be no explaining that to Cas. He went to close it but stopped short. There was clearly something malfunctioning between his mind and his dick. Standing over the open drawer again, now with only a towel slung low over his hips, the sight of its carnal contents was affecting him. His boner lifted the white cloth as weeks of fantasying came back to him all at once. Every single one of them culminated in the drawer before him. His previous aversions were quickly forgotten. It couldn’t hurt to relieve himself of some tension before his conversation with Cas. Cas was out. He wouldn’t be coming back for hours and once again what he didn’t know wouldn't’ hurt him. This was just another thing that Dean would leave out of his confession.

Dean sat down on Cas’ bed. This in itself was magical. He held himself back only barely from burying his head in the pillows and absorbing the smell of Cas. He let the towel fall to his sides and without taking his eyes off the dildo in the drawer began to stroke his dick slowly. At first, he used on the tips of his fingers, running up and down his length teasing it to full hardness but soon he started to stroke with rapid jerks. Leaning back on his free hand he tipped his head back to the ceiling and enjoyed the sordid satisfaction of sitting on Cas’ bed with his dick in his hand.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more. Carefully, he scooted back and let his head hit Cas’ pillow. Everything smelt like Cas. Like sunlight and old books. Dean spread his legs putting his feet flat on the comforter. He used them to lift his hips into the air before dropping back to the bed with a familiar creak that set his blood boiling. He pressed his thumb to the slit feeling the blood beating through him. Before starting to roll into his tight fist with slow thrusts.

There was lube in the drawer. He could take this a step further and chase his pleasure with his fingertips as well as his fist. A strung out part of his brain made the decision for him, reaching over to the drawer and grabbing the little bottle of lube. He popped the cap and coated his fingers generously.

Tentatively he breached his hole and eased into an indulgent rhythm. Up into his hand, down onto his fingers in a parody of Cas on the couch all those weeks ago. He let himself by loud for once, huffing out hot breaths that mingled with Cas’ name. He threw his head back into the pillows, writhing as the pleasure built.

“Dean…” a broken voice from somewhere in front of him, “what are you doing?”

Cas was standing in the doorway to his room. Fuck. Dean was lying on his bed facing him, legs spread wide, caught in the act.

“Cas…I can explain.”

“Explain?” He sounded shell-shocked. “You’re…” he tried again, “you’re masturbating on my bed.”

There was no point denying it. He hadn’t moved other than to stop pumping his hands. They were still wrapped around his hard dick and buried in his ass.

They stared at each other in silence as the moment stretch on and on. Dean dared not do anything except watch Cas. His eyes roved over Dean, taking in every inch of him from his damp hair to the soles of his feet pressed into the mattress.

Dean looked in turn. Cas’ eyes were blown wide from...was that lust? And God…he was hard. Dean could see it. Cas’ familiar smart slacks stretched at his crotch betraying him.

“Cas.”

“Dean.”

“Cas…do you want to join me?”

The other man closed his eyes and turned his face to the heavens as if in quiet supplication. In a voice like gravel, scraped raw by desire he said the only thing Dean wanted to hear.

"Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

They stared at each other. Even though Cas had agreed to Dean’s tentative yet salacious question neither had shifted from their positions. They remained still, poised on the edge of the chasm of their decision. Dean made the first move, taking his hands from between his legs and resting them on the towel beneath him. He did not close his thighs but left them apart for Cas’ roving inspection. Dean watched him drink him in, blue dyed black with heat. Cas took a step and with it kicked off his shoes. He took another and then one more bringing him to the foot of the bed. He stopped again, and his eyes found new angles to take in Dean’s nakedness. He was fully hard now. Dean watched as Cas shifted his erection against the fabric of his slacks. But they still did not act, they could only look at each other as the room filled with tension and the scent of sex.

“Dean,” Cas sounded broken and breathless as if this was a dream, something he was unable to fathom was actually happening. “Dean are you sure…” The question petered into nothing. Cas perhaps in his disbelief needed to be sure of Dean, of his willingness to do this.

“Yes, Cas. Please.” Dean barely recognised the sound of his own voice so spent and raw already. A hint of a smile, a dangerous predatory smile tugged at Cas' lips. Dean could not suppress the shudder that visibly ran through him. Cas noticed. He watched as Dean trembled slightly but instead of drawing back worried, he saw it for what it really was. Desperation.

Now Cas moved quickly. He tore off his shirt, uncaring if the buttons flew clean off in his haste. Ripping at his belt and tugging at his trousers he almost fell over. Dean could not help the small chuckle that escaped him. Feelings were building in his chest that threatened to overwhelm him. Lust and hunger yes but also something else. Something softer that if he was truly honest with himself had always been there when it came to Cas. He was his best friend, but perhaps they had always been more than that. Perhaps it had only ever been a matter of time.

Cas was down to his boxer shorts, and Dean was almost drooling. He had not seen Cas in such a state of undress since ‘couchgate’ and whilst that memory was near perfection, the living breathing man in front of him was something else. Tanned planes fit together across his chest and torso in exact lines. His arms were corded with muscle, strong but not bulky and his thighs were a thing of beauty. It was such a shame he had to wear clothes. Dean would have preferred to have Cas naked all the time. Maybe he’d hide all his clothes. Maybe he’d burn them.

Blue eyes were on him again. This look was gentler, reflecting the gaze that Dean knew he was bestowing on the man in front of him whose hands rested on the waistband of a pair of incongruent orange boxer shorts.

“Nice undies,” he said, “I think you should take them off.”

In a smooth and absurdly sexy move, Cas pulled them down. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. In all his time sleeping around it had never felt like this. Like coming home.

“Come here Cas.” A whisper now because the moment seemed too big for jokes.

With the utmost precision not to let an inch of his skin touch Dean’s, Cas crawled up his body until he knelt between Dean’s legs, bracketing his head in the width of his arms. Dean slid his hands up the arms by his sides letting miles of smooth skin melt underneath them. He reached shoulders but kept going aiming to loop them around Cas’ neck. Once there he pulled down gingerly, guiding Cas’ mouth to his.

When people talked about out of body experiences, Dean was pretty sure that this was what they meant. Kissing Cas felt like being chained to a comet or chasing a thunderstorm. His lips fit against Dean’s as if they were a matching set. As his tongue slipped between them and he tasted Cas for the first time he didn’t even try to repress the broken moan that breathed out.

They spent a long time kissing, exploring each other with their mouths yet keeping their bodies separate. Cas moved off, began kissing and marking a trail down Dean’s jaw to the crest of his ear and then lower biting at the pulse point in his neck making Dean buck beneath him. This errant movement brought their bodies together. Dean almost blacked out as their dicks grazed against each other. Cas hissed into the curve of his neck feeling the same sensations. Dean did it again, sliding skin against hot skin. Cas bit down hard. That would mark, but Dean could not bring himself to care. Carefully he built up a timid rhythm, bringing his hips up to meet Cas’ straining erection. Cas fell in time with him. They moved together almost as one, chasing torrid contact. Dean’s dick already lubed up and sticky with precome slipped against Cas’ now thick and sweat-drenched.

As the pace increased, neither man could control the sounds that escaped them. Moans, hisses, half-uttered names spoken with a reverence and care that whispered of deeper feelings. Cas brought his face back to Dean’s, pulling his mouth from Dean’s nipple with a sharp bite. He leant in and kissed Dean with a fire that drove him wild.

“Dean,” he said breaking the searing kiss, “I could come just like this. God just like this. I want to. But…” The pause spoke volumes, yet Cas persisted. Clarity was essential. “But I want more. I want to take you.”

Dean stopped moving. Now that he had arrived at this juncture he had drawn a blank.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time I updated this, don't you think?

Cas must have felt him go still, sensed his indecision and read it as uncertainty. He opened his mouth as if to backtrack, but Dean jumped in before he could.

“Yes. Cas,” he sounded so breathless, a whisper in the space between their faces, “I want you to but…” He paused scared to admit his innocence even though he knew somehow that Cas would not reject him. “I’ve never…” He left the rest unsaid, but Castiel understood his confession.

Looking down at him Castiel half smiled before leaning down and kissing him gently, with such tenderness that Dean felt his heartbeat slow in his chest.

“That’s okay Dean. I’ll take care of you.”

Something in those words loosened the ball of tension that sat between his ribs, the anxiety fading away, leaving only the faintest thrill of nerves. Cas would take care of him. He daren’t unpick the tapestry of feelings that covered him when he replayed that one simple sentence in his head. Cas’ eyes were still on him, ready to zero in on anything amiss but all Dean could think was ‘I’ll take care of you’. A steady chant, pulsing through his veins with each heartbeat. He felt as if he was coming home for the first time. In this pause, the precipice he and Cas now danced along between acts, Dean found that he trusted Cas more than he had ever trusted anyone in his life. Outside of this moment, before Cas had climbed up his body and worshipped him with his hands and mouth, Dean would have struggled with the concept of truly trusting another human being. But for Cas, he would give himself over entirely, body, mind and soul to his capable hands. This was faith, this was holy, and Castiel was his angel.

Cas started moving against him again, and the sensations that had begun to fade came back with a vengeance. All existential thoughts of faith and trust and perhaps something more ceased as Cas’ body pressed against his. Cas did not quicken the pace preferring to keep Dean in the cage of his arms and roll himself along Dean’s length in lurid strokes as he slowly traced his mouth with his tongue. Dean was lost in it, so lost in fact he barely registered Cas’ hand as it travelled down the planes of his body. It wasn’t till it circled his cock and tugged once that he noticed it. A hiss escaped him before he could control it. He moved into Cas’ fist his body begging for release, but Cas did not give it to him. He just kept kissing him and moving his hand in steady strokes. As the pressure grew too intense and Dean threatened to spill himself between them, Cas broke off stroking him whilst ceasing his exploration Dean’s mouth to instead plant kisses across his jaw. Then down his neck and over the expanse of chest. Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head as Cas lightly licked each nipple before trailing light presses of his lips down his stomach and into the crease at his hips. He avoided Dean’s length where it sat hot and heavy on his stomach instead pressing his mouth to the inside of Dean’s legs as he drew them up until he was enclosed between his thighs. Throughout this subtle manoeuvring Dean barely noticed any of Cas’ movements, his preparations, he revelled only in the feeling of his hands on him. The fact that now after all this time he was touching him, that he wanted him, it filled his heart to bursting.

Dean was brought back to himself abruptly as Cas licked a hot stripe up his cock that had him arching off the bed. Against his sensitive flesh, he could feel Cas chuckle as he licked line after line before taking Dean in his mouth at last. The noise ripped from his throat in that instant was almost inhuman, but Dean could not bring himself to be embarrassed. Cas suckled at his head, tonguing it in sharp circles before pressing into the slit. Dean grappled with the covers at his side, making fists in them as sensation flooded over him like a tsunami. Everything was too much. The smell of Cas, the feel of him, and a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him, they had not even reached the peak of the mountain they were scaling.

Cas took him in deep. Finally. The press of his mouth enveloping him completely. He felt the back of the other man’s throat, and it took all his strength not to thrust into him. He chanced a look down and watched his cock disappear and reappear, Cas’ mouth stretched around him. The look on his face must have been awestruck because Cas smiled back up at him, pride and lust mingling in upturned lips.

Release was imminent. With Cas’ mouth on him, taking him in, he was going to lose it before they even really started. Somehow sensing this Cas stopped. He moved lower to mouth at his balls before Dean could formulate anything to say, the connection between thinking and speaking completely short-circuited. His tongue was like heaven as it licked a hot stripe down over sensitive flesh, eventually finding Dean’s furled hole. Though Dean had just been using his fingers to fuck himself, they had nothing on the insistent press of Cas’ tongue that laved at him urging him to relax so it could slip inside. It circled and probed at him, sending quakes up his body before dipping into the tight ring of muscle and working him open with practised ease. Dean unravelled under that tongue, the sheer thought of being consumed in this way forcing him to the edge of what he could bear. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but Castiel bracketed in the circle of his thighs with his tongue inside him taking him apart piece by glorious piece.  

Suddenly nothing. From the haze of bliss, he had been floating in Dean was brought crashing back to Earth. He didn't stifle the groan that poured out of him. “Please…Cas please…” he begged, he could stand this torture no more.

Cas beamed at him, “So insistent, Dean.”

The way he said his name sent a shiver up his spine. “Cas, please. I need you,” he said in a small voice.

Cas reached over him, careful to keep their bodies separate once again. Dean watched him intensely as he climbed back up his body until they were almost face to face. With a wicked grin, Cas stretched out to pick up the small bottle that had fallen over on the nightstand and coated his fingers generously in cool blue lube. Dean stretched out further beneath him, his body anticipating Cas' fingers where his tongue had just been. Sitting back on his knees Cas used his clean hand to press at Dean's leg, pulling his cheeks further apart still. The look of pure hunger on his face as he exposed Dean's hole would be etched behind Dean's eyes as long as he lived he was sure of it. Cas trailed his coated fingers across Dean's ass, leaving his skin jumping with each press. Gently Cas drew neat circles around his hole, moving the tight muscle before sliding inside.  

Although Dean had felt his own fingers move inside him when Cas slid in his thick digit it was another thing entirely. Cas pressed at him gently, driving in slowly but with enough force that Dean felt it in every nerve ending. He leant forward again to capture Dean’s mouth with his, his kisses hungrier than before, more desperate. Cas was as strung out as he was. Dean was thrilled by the prospect that he could make Cas this wild, that he could bring him this close to the edge with nothing more than his pliant body. Cas twisted his finger inside him, searching and sure, sending Dean over the edge into a frenzy when he found his prostate. In and out and then out altogether as he pulled back to add another finger, and then another. With three of Cas’ fingers tugging at his hole, stretching him wide Dean was gone in his pleasure, but he still longed to feel Cas cock take their place.

“Cas…please…I’m ready. I can’t last like this,” he pleaded desperation making his voice a breathless whine.

Cas looked down at him with a slight tilt to his head that was so remarkably him.

“Dean are you sure?” He sounded as broken as Dean felt, as he undoubtably looked.

“Yes, Cas please…please. I need you. Please. Fuck me.”

 


End file.
